


Saved

by aunt_zelda



Category: Testify - Alan Doyle (Music Video)
Genre: Gen, Lies, Religion, Religion Kink, Yuletide Madness, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 11:11:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8977297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aunt_zelda/pseuds/aunt_zelda
Summary: Just how honest was the man's desire to be saved?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tamarind (rogue)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rogue/gifts).



> A Yuletide treat for tamarind (rogue).
> 
> Read your prompt and wanted to write you a treat. That music video is so intriguing, there's so many directions one could take with the story as presented. 
> 
> I hope you like this little fic.

They’d beat him nearly senseless. Just not enough to bring him the sweet escape of unconsciousness – then they’d have had to carry him into town. They’d dragged him through town to be jeered at and spat upon, taunted with the noose that was to end his life that evening. Then they’d left him to shiver in the meager room that served as their temporary jail. 

The preacher came for last rites. He laid a hand on the man’s forehead and murmured in Latin. It was the kindest touch the man had received in what felt like years. The man leaned into it, treasuring the precious moments of the preacher’s hand against his skin. He wondered, in his dark and desperate mind, if he could add ‘corruption of a holy man’ to his long litany of sins before the noose closed around his throat. 

A plan began to form. Perhaps he could mask his desires of the flesh for desiring something else from the preacher. To be ‘saved,’ in spirit, if not in body. He had not been baptized; so all the preacher’s words were for naught.

The preacher again laid a hand on the man, this time over his heart. Perhaps he thought he could sense the man’s true intentions that way. Whatever he felt, the preacher promised to do his best to convince the man’s jailors to allow them an hour before execution for a baptism. 

Smirking, and dwelling on the warmth of the preacher’s hands, the man waiting in his cell. He overheard snatches of arguments, the jailors and the preacher railing against each other. Finally, a decision was made, and the preacher returned, smiling beatifically. 

“You shall be saved, my son,” the preacher promised. 

“Thank you, father,” the man said, pouring all of his sincerity into his words. 

The jailors again dragged him, though they did not beat him in sight of the preacher. To the man’s secret delight, the preacher laid hands on him several times in their journey over the rough and uneven stones to the bank of the river.

In the river, the preacher insisted that the man’s shackles be removed for the baptism. They could be replaced afterwards, and the jailors held guns after all. After some grumbling, the jailors relented. 

The man smiled at the preacher, a full and triumphant smile, before plunging below the water and swimming downstream. He heard the muffled shouts and blasts of guns, but he was out of sight and night was closing in. He swam, though the water was icy cold, until he could no longer hear the guns. Then he clambered up onto the riverbank. Saved in body and in spirit, as the baptism had technically been completed. 

As soon as he was able, he sent a letter to the preacher. A simple thing, scribbled on a scrap of paper he’d folded again and again inside his jacket. 

_Preacher – The way I see it, you saved me twice. You saved my soul and you saved my body. I owe you. If you ever want to come and collect, I’ll let you find me._

Maybe it would come to naught. But maybe, just maybe, the preacher wasn’t as holy as he seemed on the surface.


End file.
